


Like a Flint Spark to Kindling

by Dont_touch_the_phlebotinum



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:28:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24153580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dont_touch_the_phlebotinum/pseuds/Dont_touch_the_phlebotinum
Summary: He should have put a stop to it as soon as the conversation had turned. But Jaskier had a wicked mouth and a filthier imagination, and Geralt couldn't help being sucked in. There had always been something uniquely frustrating about the way Jaskier could crawl under Geralt's skin.Still, talk was one thing. It shouldn't have led them to this, stretched naked on Geralt's bedroll, eyes on one another in the dark and Geralt's hand curled around Jaskier's hard cock.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 12
Kudos: 396





	Like a Flint Spark to Kindling

This was a mistake.

The words pulsed in Geralt's head. They had been for the past hour, from the moment the air had shifted between him and Jaskier, the heat of their small fire turning too sticky as they had found themselves inching closer to one another. They had been on the road too long, gone too long without fairer company. Too long without even a hunt to burn off some of the mounting tensions.

He should have put a stop to it as soon as the conversation had turned. But Jaskier had a wicked mouth and a filthier imagination, and Geralt couldn't help being sucked in. There had always been something uniquely frustrating about the way Jaskier could crawl under Geralt's skin.

Still, talk was one thing. It shouldn't have led them to this, stretched naked on Geralt's bedroll, eyes on one another in the dark and Geralt's hand curled around Jaskier's hard cock.

He worked Jaskier with firm, steady strokes. If this was simply a way to relieve some tension, Jaskier wouldn't want to drag it out longer than necessary. Geralt had watched him seduce his way through countless towns; he had seen the way Jaskier's gaze at his latest object of infatuation would turn fond as his hand slid up her skirts, had heard through too-thin walls how he would gasp and moan and whisper sweet words of encouragement. It wouldn't be like that tonight.

"Oh," Jaskier said with a pinched-off noise too close to the sounds that echoed through Geralt's skull more often than he was comfortable with. His fingers slipped to Geralt's arm moving between them and gave a gentle squeeze. "You're good at this."

Had he not lost the ability to form a coherent sentence the moment Jaskier's lips had brushed, quick and clumsy, against his own, Geralt might have argued at that. His hands were too rough, decades clutching a sword stripping them of anything soft, anything capable of offering comfort. He knew that well enough from his own disappointing attempts to get himself off. Yet Jaskier sighed and gasped against him, rocking into Geralt's touch like he'd never known such pleasure.

The act wasn't necessary. Geralt knew what this was. Maybe it helped Jaskier through it, to pretend there was something to this, their hands straying in the dark, but the lie left Geralt cold. It would be too easy to let himself believe it, to let himself fall even further under Jaskier's spell.

But perhaps it was already too late.

Geralt's hand slowed, drawing this out despite himself. He should have known he'd regret it at the sigh which escaped Jaskier in response. With his leg hooked over Geralt's to keep him close, Jaskier clutched tighter at Geralt's forearm until it was pressed firm against his heated skin, his grip surprisingly strong. Fortunate, then, that Geralt had no desire to pull away. Jaskier stared at him, unblinking, lips parted to let those sweet, soft noises slip free.

All those nights spent on the other side of the wall, Geralt's traitorous imagination had been only too happy to supply the images to go along with Jaskier's sounds of pleasure. He hadn't thought he would ever get to find out how accurate they really were. Jaskier's brows pulled together, a flush of pink creeping out across his skin, as his expression shifted in growing ecstasy. And still his eyes remained fixed on Geralt.

They would never be able to come back from this.

Jaskier's free hand clutched at Geralt's shoulder like he didn't know what else to do with it, his body beginning to tremble as Geralt's hand worked between his legs. If this was an act, it was an incredible performance. His eyes finally stuttered closed, allowing Geralt to breathe again, and Jaskier tensed. He came with a sound Geralt knew too well.

The smell of it seared through Geralt's senses. It was all he could do not to let out a moan himself, his body wound too tight, his heartbeat pounding insistent in his ears. He could feel every place their skin touched like magic crackling between them. Jaskier's grip on Geralt's arm didn't loosen.

With no gentle way to extricate himself from Jaskier's hold, there wasn't much for Geralt to do but keep stroking him. It was easier to forget the rest of the world with Jaskier moaning in his arms. The sounds grew more strained, more desperate, as Geralt's hand continued to slide along his over-sensitive cock, but still he kept Geralt in place, like it was a game he wasn't prepared to surrender.

"Fuck," Jaskier breathed, and the roughness in his voice sent another demanding throb to Geralt's cock. He writhed in Geralt's hold, never able to keep his body still for too long, his neck stretched out so close to Geralt's lips he ached with the need to just reach out and close his teeth on it.

Only when his cock was fully soft again in Geralt's palm did Jaskier loosen his grip and let Geralt pull his hand free. Geralt held his breath, afraid of the shaking, desperate thing that might escape his lungs if he didn't, and pulled away to roll onto his back. Even without the intoxicating press of Jaskier's body against his, they were too close, the heat of Jaskier's skin radiating towards Geralt, the smell of his arousal a sticky musk hanging thick in the air.

Geralt's cheeks burned. Jaskier's release was still hot on his palm.

Before he could retreat to a safe distance — not that he was sure he could find one; he suspected he'd be able to smell Jaskier from the opposite end of the forest — Jaskier shifted. He was up and straddling Geralt in one smooth motion, moving to position himself between Geralt's thighs. There was no way he could miss how Geralt's cock stood wanting between them.

"Jaskier—" The word was like broken glass in his throat.

Jaskier hushed him. He was hovering so close to where Geralt needed him, and his hands fisted in the bedroll at the torture of it. He should have pushed Jaskier away. Should have got up and dressed and pretended this hadn't happened. That he hadn't let himself acknowledge this itch beneath his skin, how it was growing worse with every brush of Jaskier's body against him.

He had let himself taste Jaskier's lips, felt the velvet soft skin of his cock. He knew what Jaskier looked like when he came. It was more than Geralt had ever had the right to demand, and still it gnawed at him just how easy it would be to seek out more.

Jaskier dipped his head and, breathless, Geralt watched him lick a wet line from the base of Geralt's cock to the tip. His eyes flicked to Geralt, waiting for permission, and Geralt couldn't find the strength to tell him to stop. This thing had destroyed them already; if this was to be his last night in Jaskier's company, he may as well take the memory of Jaskier's mouth with him.

Jaskier's hand curled warm and perfect around Geralt's cock, and he let his tongue flick over the head, a maddening tease which dragged a sound from Geralt's lungs he had never heard before. Jaskier's eyes were still on him. Geralt couldn't tear his own away.

He bit back a gasp when Jaskier closed his lips around his cock and sucked. Jaskier took him in a little more with each practised bob of his head, and Geralt couldn't ignore the scenes playing out in his mind of how else Jaskier might allow Geralt to sink into him; Jaskier spread beneath him, his narrow hips under Geralt's palms, his body gradually opening up for Geralt's cock. Unbidden, his hips jerked, and Jaskier gagged at the sudden thrust, pulling back with a cough. The air swirled cold and empty around Geralt's cock.

"Sorry," said Geralt.

Jaskier's eyes glinted wicked in the dark. "Do it again," he said, drawing Geralt's hand up to rest on the back of his head before parting his lips for Geralt's cock once more. The knowledge that this was what Jaskier liked twisted something deep within Geralt's gut.

He rocked into Jaskier's mouth slowly, his stomach tensed to hold himself back, and Jaskier moaned around him. Even muffled by Geralt's cock the sound made him ache. Jaskier did it again when Geralt clutched at a rough handful of his hair. His thumb stroked at the underside of Geralt's cock, free hand coming to tease at his balls, and — _fuck_ — it was too much.

Geralt should have known Jaskier would be good at this. The way women would talk about him while he performed and Geralt tried his best not to eavesdrop, giggling about the things he had done with his hands, his tongue, his cock…

He wondered if the other rumours about Jaskier's skills were true as well. His thighs parted wider at the thought.

The wet sounds of Jaskier's mouth on him were loud in their small campsite, each dragging Geralt closer to madness. He had lost control of the noises he was making as Jaskier sucked him with increasing intensity, his movements long past teasing now. Geralt slipped his other hand into Jaskier's hair, a fire burning beneath his skin.

No-one had ever done this to him without ample coin for the service.

"Jaskier," he gasped out, a warning.

But Jaskier didn't pull away. His eyes flicked to Geralt's again, and there was something like a dare sparking within them. He squeezed at the base of Geralt's cock and moved his head faster, until the tension keeping Geralt pinned in place snapped. With Jaskier's name on his lips, Geralt surrendered to it. Jaskier grasped tight at his hips, and for a moment Geralt thought he was being too rough, fucking too hard into Jaskier's mouth, until he heard the sound of Jaskier moaning around him again. His throat bobbed as he swallowed down Geralt's release.

Geralt watched Jaskier pull off and turn away, and a weight sank heavy in his chest, putting an abrupt end to the lingering bliss of his climax. They had been safe distracted by the thrill of their actions. Now that it was over, there was nothing left but the cold reality of what Jaskier had let Geralt do to him.

But before Geralt could ruminate on what the next few minutes had in store, Jaskier was back, a damp cloth in hand to clean them both up. Afterwards, instead of retreating to his own bedroll — or even farther — he settled himself back down at Geralt's side. The smell of what they had done still clung to his skin, and Geralt wrestled with the urge to bury his face in the curve of Jaskier's neck and breathe it in. He couldn't rid himself of the image of Jaskier's lips around him.

"You didn't need to do that," said Geralt.

"I wanted to." He said it like it was simple.

Geralt clung to the words. He turned his head, his heartbeat too loud in the quiet spreading between them, and bit his lip at the feel of Jaskier's fingers brushing a strand of hair from his damp skin. It was impossible not to lean in to the touch.

Jaskier pressed a soft kiss to Geralt's cheek. "So," he began, his tone light as ever, as if there was nothing unusual about them lying curled together like they were. As if this wasn't goodbye.

Geralt braced himself. _This was fun, but never again_.

"Which way are we heading tomorrow?"


End file.
